


Very Nearly

by Fedora Of Adorableness (TheTimelessChild0)



Series: Omovember 2020 [6]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Awesome Diana Berrigan, Clueless Clinton Jones, Desperation, Embarrassment, Episode: s03e08 As You Were, Omovember 2020, Protective Peter Burke, Urination, just about "made it", omovember 6, partial wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:55:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27400789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTimelessChild0/pseuds/Fedora%20Of%20Adorableness
Summary: A for effort.
Series: Omovember 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1987816
Kudos: 6
Collections: WC²





	Very Nearly

Neal entered the elevator, and immediately went to the far right corner, as the doors closed behind him. Once he was certain no one was breaking into the carriage, he put his hands on the nearest two walls for comfort.

He didn’t know what it was about this case. Most likely it was the military aspect. Yes, he had impersonated the British Navy, but those guys couldn’t be intimidating if they tried. The worst weapon they could possibly point at him, were bayonets. And, more importantly, they didn’t shoot _unless_ you resisted.

This was why he looked up to Peter. Yes, he was law enforcement, but ranked so much farther up compared to the father who abandoned him all those years ago. He respected him, didn’t want to even _think_ about doing something wrong while under his control. The army took it one step further. They had guns. Neal had always hated guns. 

The doors opened again and he casually stepped out, ignoring the pit in his stomach, seemingly moving south...he hoped it would stop there.

It wasn’t too difficult to find Jimmy and lead to safety. He was about to follow when he passed by a door. But it wasn’t just any door. It was a _restroom_ door. That clarified what all the pressure was about. He had to pee. Damnit. _Well, that’s just great_...

Neal carefully, and more to the point, _quietly_ closed the exit door behind him and skittered off towards the corridor where he’d found the restroom. But, alas, on the way he heard voices. One of the guards.

He couldn’t make out what they were saying. but it somehow meant that they had to leave, as they headed straight towards him, forcing him to hide.

It didn’t take long before he understood why the guard left. He was being replaced. By Striker. 

“You’re really good at poking your nose where it doesn’t belong,” Van Horn groused, holding a crossbow. 

Caffrey was about to reason with the nitwit, when an arrow was fired. He abruptly ducked and ran. More arrows pierced the walls.

He was forced into a corner.

Van Horn fired an arrow between his legs...or, well at his leg forcing them apart. It didn’t puncture any skin, but did pierce a hole in Caffrey’s control; a small leak shot out. Neal hopped over the arrow, squeezing his thighs together, tackling Striker.

* * *

Peter stepped in just in time to save his consultant and make the arrest. Neal stepped in place waiting for his handler to finish reading the rights. 

Burke walked over to his CI. 

“Jones tells me you didn’t follow Jimmy down the fire escape,” he brought up, curious.

“So? Van Horn would’ve chased after me anyway,” Neal pointed out.

“Neal...” Peter was not gonna fall for one of his redirects today. No siree.

“I just had one more thing to check, but it didn’t work out, forget it. Can I go?” Caffrey explained, requesting release, of more than one variety...

“Sure,” 

* * * * * * * * * *

Neal ran through a crowd of Feds next to the exit, heading for the stairs. 

_1,2,1,2,_ he counted the steps, crossing his legs once he got to the top.

“God, I have to pee _so_ bad,”

He slipped through the door of the first elevator that opened, closing the doors again immediately.

More liquid slipped out as well. 

He intertwined his fingers, cementing a stronghold on his crotch. 

_Hold it in, hold it in, hold it in._

“Urine; stay,” he commanded, ridiculously.

But the urine did not stay. When the elevator stopped, more came out. Neal sighed, gathering confidence.

His hand was now lodged permanently between his legs. He hoped dearly and indeed _desperately_ that it would not show too well on his white polyester pants. 

Neal slammed the door shut behind him as more and more kept flowing out. Now he could _feel_ it on his white polyester pants. Finally getting a bright idea, he did a highly incriminating(no pun intended) dance, both to stop the stream and support the action of unzipping. By the time his _paintbrush_ was pointing at the right canvas, it needed no summons.

* * *

It didn’t take long for Jones to notify Peter that _no_ , their employed escape artist was not, as a matter fact, inside a Bureau vehicle, waiting for his colleagues. Burke sighed deeply. Caffrey seemed not to have taken his own advice about the “final check”. 

A cursory reading of his tracking data, revealed he was, unsurprisingly on the same floor as Jimmy was held. Peter ran upstairs and into the elevator.

“What the hell could be this _urgent_?” he complained to himself. 

The first thing he heard when he rounded the corner, was the last thing he expected to.

He assumed it was urgent, going by the sighs. And the duration.

Neal finished and put his _gun_ back in the holster, which was, as previously established, quite moist still.

“That. was a close one. _Really_ close,” he noted, inspecting the visibility of his, _umm_...unforeseen circumstance.

It wasn’t the smallest spot in the world, decorating the crease of his slacks like lace. But it _mostly_ confined to an area not commonly observed. Though he had no doubt if anyone wanted to check him for cuts, they would be very suspicious of it.

Neal flushed, washed his hands and walked out, hat in hand. To come face to face with Peter Burke. 

“Peter!” he yelped, covering himself with his hat.

The man raised an eyebrow. 

“You know, if you needed to go to the bathroom, you could’ve just said,” Burke mentioned.

Neal blushed, even though the man deserved credit for not bringing up the wet patch in the room. He nodded.

Peter looked down fondly. He approached his consultant with kind eyes. 

“I get it now. Why you impersonated a member of the _British_ navy. Navy blue uniforms,” he couldn’t help but smirk.

“Shut up,” Caffrey clipped, thoroughly unamused. The blush never left his face. Peter nodded, shrugging casually.

“Come on, let’s go,” he beckoned.

“I think you’ll find I already did,” Neal pointed out dryly.

“Where?” Peter quipped, looking at the affected area.

Neal fired a death glare in his direction.

“Alright, I’ll stop,” he surrendered.

Caffrey whacked his cap at the back Burke’s head.

“I deserved that,”

When they approached the elevators, Neal dropped his hat, leading to his handler tripping over it.

“You ok? _Great_...oh no, the button’s stuck,” Caffrey feigned compassion, waving goodbye as the doors closed. 

* * *

Neal kept his hat in his lap for as long as he could, till he approached a crowd of his fellow agents again.

“Where’s Peter?” Jones wanted to know. 

“Something wrong with the elevator. Doors closed accidentally. Freaky,” Neal lied, still holding his hat in a strategic location.

“Don’t hats go on your head?” he noted, bemused.

Caffrey had no choice but to put his hat back on his head, leaving the wetness totally exposed for at least 3 seconds.

“What’s that?” Clinton questioned, obviously referring to the con man’s groin area.

“Sweat,” Neal clarified quickly. “...just sweat. Fighting a man with a crossbow...whew, real workout,” he remarked, rubbing the back of his hand. Only, not the way you would when simply impatient. More like intending to scrape off the top layer of skin.

Jones may be susceptible to Neal’s lies, but Diana was immune. He couldn’t feed her any lines. 

Presently, she was smirking, and nodding along to the necessary narrative. 

“Relax, your muscles had a ball,” Berrigan patted the CI on the back, leaving before the recipient could question it. Not that he minded. It was considerably more pleasant than the burning in his bladder and face. He was certain only the former was simulated.

“What’s so funny?” her partner noticed the amusement.

“Just imagining Neal’s imminent hat hair,”

Her lie would’ve been more believable if Burke hadn’t reappeared, in time to point out her spontaneous fit of laughter.

“You _saw_ . _You_ didn’t,” Peter commented, half surprised, half exasperated.

“Saw what?” Jones was confused, having already forgotten the exact thing he did in fact see.

“The sweat." Diana explained, shooting Burke a look. "It’s no big deal, it happens,” she shrugged emphatically.

The handler looked sideways, hinting, and raised his thumb appreciatively.

Jones was no less confused. Neal was no less moist.

The End.


End file.
